


Treasured

by withoutthetiger



Category: Castle
Genre: Episode Related, Friendship/Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutthetiger/pseuds/withoutthetiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their late-night cemetery dig, Castle and Beckett return to the precinct to clean up. They don't get to keep the treasure they found, but perhaps they'll stumble across something better. Set at the end of "Under the Gun" (3x03).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treasured

“Sorry, Castle. It’s not ‘finders keepers’ around here.”

He shuffled just behind her as they exited the elevator and made their way toward the precinct locker room. It was late, but they had just checked the newly-found jewels into evidence, the spoils of their return trip to the cemetery, and Beckett wanted to clean up a bit before going home. He wasn’t actually mad at her need to adhere to police procedure, her insistence that the gems be returned to their rightful owner, but he couldn’t help but pout one more time.

“It was an actual buried treasure. Like a pirate’s dream come true,” he whined.

She spun in the hallway. “I didn’t realize you were harboring secret pirate fantasies.”

“I fantasize about a lot of things, Detective.”

He winked, and she resumed her efficient pace. She was nowhere near as exasperated as she had been in the early days of their partnership, but it was the role she insisted upon playing and he trotted along after her with a smile.

When they reached the row of sinks, she turned toward him again. “You didn’t have to join me here. Somehow you managed to get significantly less dirty during our dig…something about not messing up ‘the hands that craft veritable works of art,’ was it?”

“Yes, but I’m not above helping you before I leave. In fact, I probably owe it to you.”

She snorted. “You might want to avoid a discussion of what you owe me, or you’ll be digging yourself holes of a different kind.”

Too busy with her clever response – accurate though it probably was – Beckett hadn’t noticed that he’d already wet a paper towel until he touched it to the side of her neck and she gasped out his name. He supposed it was nothing more than the surprise of the contact, but he still delighted in the sudden jump of her pulse against his fingertips, forcing himself to stay focused on the task before him. Carefully wiping the grime that threatened to disappear beneath the neckline of her shirt, he rediscovered the smoothness of the skin there, the graceful lines he traced as he moved.

With his free hand, he gathered her long hair, wrapping his fingers around a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of his way. Then he worked to clean the rest of the filth from her neck, methodical in his strokes, but attentive and gentle. And silent. So, so quiet. Recognizing that she could shower at home to remove any remaining dirt, he did as much as he could within the bounds of decency and then tossed the used paper towel aside and grabbed at another. After a quick dip beneath the warm water of the still-running faucet, he lifted the towel to her cheek. His other hand still held her hair back, and he tugged just enough to tilt her head for better access.

Another gasp. “You really don’t have to do this, Castle.”

“Tell me to stop.”

Her eyes shone, more open and honest than he could remember in their time together. “No,” she whispered.

Then her eyelids fell, shuttering any other emotion he might have observed as he carefully caressed her face, more tender than even he had expected to be. He trailed down one fierce jawline until he reached the tip of her chin, continuing up the opposite side. After he brushed over her forehead, clearing the dark streaks there, he only paused to throw that paper towel into the trash before he wet a new one. Taking his time and using a steady hand, he removed some of the makeup from her eyes as he washed away the dirt that had gathered beneath her brows.

Lost in what he was doing, it took another minute before his breath caught, heavy and pathetic in his chest, when he moved back to her cheeks and noticed the tears that had begun to trip down her face. Beckett wasn’t someone who let her guard down often, vigilant about keeping her vulnerability tucked neatly away behind her impeccably sturdy façade; he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her waver, and he was stunned by her crying. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been.

Watching her teardrops fall unchecked made his heart fracture, but he cleared his throat and asked, “Royce?”

Her eyes closed a bit more tightly, creases of pain answering for her even as she offered up a subtle nod. She’d finally broken under the flood of memories and regrets about her training officer, her confession of love from that afternoon seeming less like a ruse, and Castle had no idea what to say in response. An entire career built upon wit and words and he was coming up with nothing at all, so he did the only other thing he could. He shut up altogether.

The towel returned to her face, cleansing her of sadness and soil both. He slowed enough to give her the time she needed, continuing to swipe at her cheeks as her tears waned, the burden shared between them making it easier for her to bear. When he’d finally cleaned the rest of the dirt away, he threw the towel away and released the fistful of hair he’d forgotten he was holding, almost apologetic as he let go and took half a step back to study her.

She was noticeably tired, her entire body beginning to curl forward as though the effort to stand upright was no longer worth it. Her breathing was relaxed, lulled into a pleasant rhythm as he’d taken care of her. And there was an obvious flush to her skin, probably a combination of the pressure of his fingers and the embarrassment of crying in front of him, though he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a third factor, something he wasn’t quite willing to name. It was nothing he could act upon anyway, not while Gina was in his life, so he tried to force the thought aside and looked down to where Beckett’s hands hung by her side.

Her hands. Capable and delicate, almost poetic in action and stillness alike. Hands that had held his attention more than many people had managed, and certainly a part of her body that she could easily wash with no further assistance from him. She was mostly clean and he should have walked away, left her to finish up on her own, and gone back to the loft for a cold shower. Instead, he was frozen there, utterly entranced by the hands that might damn the relationship he’d reminded himself of just a moment before.

Making a decision, however unwise, he tugged at her sleeves until they rested above her elbows, then he gripped her by the shoulders and spun her to face the sink, the front of his body pressed comfortably against the back of hers when he stepped forward. Her eyes were open again, making contact with his through the mirror, some sort of challenge or confession swirling within the indescribable color. His palms slid over her forearms, certainly more contact than was necessary, eventually covering her hands and pulling them under the faucet’s stream.

He dropped one hand long enough to get soap from the dispenser on the wall, then held her again, four hands tangled together and uninterested in separating beneath the warm water. His breath spread goosebumps along her neck, a shiver cascading through her body in the next second. It was dangerous, the desperate way he wanted to chase that chill, see where it might lead, and follow it to the very end. His head fell forward, his nose buried in her hair, and he knew he had to get out of there.

“I started seeing someone.”

Though forever grateful that his face was hidden from her view, he knew she didn’t miss the way his body tensed at her sudden statement. It was probably unfair of him to have any reaction at all, but it hurt. He slowly lifted his head and tugged his hands away, reaching for the paper towels and holding them out for her. Then he leaned back against the adjacent sink and waited for her to continue.

“His name’s Josh. He’s a doctor. A cardiac surgeon, actually. And he volunteers with Doctors Without Borders.”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to give me his resume, Kate?” The use of her first name startled her and he wished he were more apologetic, but he was still reeling for no appropriate reason and he wanted her to sting a little, too.

She looked down at her hands, nervous energy causing her to tear at the towels she no longer needed, and mostly ignored his question. “I just--- I want someone who is there for me, and I can be there for him, and we can just dive into it together.”

“And you think this doctor is the one for that?”

Beckett huffed out a laugh, entirely lacking in humor. “No, I don’t think he’s that at all. I mean, we’ve only been out a few times and I like him, but it’s going to be too easy. Too safe. I’ll be able to keep one foot out the door, and I don’t want to do that anymore. ”

“Then why go out with him at all?”

“Because the man who is already there for me is seeing someone else.”

Her eye contact astonished him, the raw and naked fragility something he never expected, but he could do little but sigh in response. “What are we doing here?”

“I don’t know; I didn’t exactly plan this conversation. Everything with Royce just got to me, I guess.”

“How so?”

“He supported me unconditionally. Encouraged me to be the best version of myself. Maybe he even loved me, I don’t know.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter. He had no doubt it did. “After he left, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have that again. Then you came along.”

Smiling at that, he replied, “Yes, I came along and annoyed the hell out of you until you realized how truly charming I am.” He considered ending the conversation there, letting them both off the hook with no damage done. Instead, he went on. “I don’t think my feelings for you are a secret, no matter how much we’ve tried to pretend they weren’t there at all.”

She nodded, but took a long while to say anything else, worrying her bottom lip in the silence until she found the words she needed. “So what happens now?”

“You’re the one full of surprises tonight. You tell me.”

“It’s not like Josh and I are anything official yet. It’s simple enough for me to end it. I just don’t know if it’s fair to Gina to ask you to do the same.”

He raised his eyebrow, stealing one of her favorite expressions. “I think it would be considerably less fair if I don’t.”

They both knew it was true, but there was something to be said for keeping an obstacle between them, an excuse for avoiding this thing they’d wanted for too long. No more, though. He didn’t want to be that man and he sure as hell wouldn’t make Beckett be that woman.

Her bravery diminishing, she shifted awkwardly. “So, I should probably go home.”

“Can I have a hug first?”

She smirked to cover whatever other reaction she might have had. “I don’t know, Castle. I think we’re both still sweaty from the dig.”

“A sweaty hug then.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

* * *

 

When she arrived at the precinct early the next morning, her anxiety was almost enough to make her visibly shake. She’d said so much the night before, things she absolutely meant, but hadn’t had any intention of sharing with Castle while he was still in a relationship. And while she’d called Josh as soon as she had returned to her apartment, cancelling their upcoming date and letting him know that it wasn’t going to work out between them, she knew she’d had it easy in that regard. She had no idea what Castle was going to do about Gina, nor how quickly it could possibly happen.

Sighing and distracted as she made her way through the bullpen, she didn’t notice the object on her desk until she flopped into her chair. Then she tilted her head and smiled as soon as she realized what it was.

A small treasure chest. So Castle.

She looked around, but didn’t see him anywhere, so she turned the tiny key that had been left in the lock and tipped the lid backward on its hinge. There, nestled among a pile of plastic coins and silly costume jewelry, was her latte, a still-warm bear claw, and a handwritten note.

_Good morning KB,_

_Sorry I couldn’t be there to deliver these myself, but I have something important to take care of this morning. I’ll be with you as soon as I can._

_Until then, enjoy the booty! (I can almost hear you groaning, Beckett, but I couldn’t resist!)_

_RC_

Cradling the note to her body, such a silly and precious thing, she exhaled in relief. Yes, it was so, so Castle, and for all the months of eyerolling he’d inspired, she hoped he’d never change. Maybe it had taken Royce’s reappearance to knock some sense into her, or maybe it was simply time to give up the charade, but she was ready for a new adventure and there was nobody else she’d rather have by her side.

Booty and all.


End file.
